


Because You Are My Son

by DarkPhoenix1578



Series: The Dwarf Lord of Winterfell [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, Forgiveness, POV Third Person, kind of maybe Cersei bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPhoenix1578/pseuds/DarkPhoenix1578
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place directly after Jaime frees Tyrion from his cell and he is forced to murder Shae. After that, all the canon ever is thrown out the window. </p><p>Tyrion Lannister has had enough. His father represents every ounce of hate and scorn that has been sent the dwarf's way. He is determined to murder his father after he kills Shae, because what else does he have to lose? His life? That is apparently not worth much. As it turns out, people often harbor secrets. Sometimes, those secrets can be surprising and life altering. And Tyrion is definitely in for one hell of a secret. </p><p>TWO CHAPTER STORY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"I am sorry."  
 

Shae was dead. And for what good cause? Tyrion sat with his back against his father's bed, tears leaking out of the corners of his mismatched eyes. He had killed the woman he loved. A whore, but the woman he loved nonetheless. She had tried to kill him, of course...the moment he had stepped into the room and she had seen him looking at her with a mixture of hurt and disbelief, she had wanted to kill him.

  
 The look in her eyes had been wild and desperate, like that of a starving wolf trying to bring down its prey. He had been her prey. And he had killed her. Tyrion sniffled, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his tunic. He was a monster, just as Joffery had jeered to him the day they received the letter from Walder Frey and they had all learned the fate of Robb Stark, his mother, and all of his bannermen.

  
 _"Everyone is mine to torment, you little monster."_

  
 Of course, his reply to Joffery's cutting comment had not been much better or at all wise, but the past was the past.

  
 Tyrion remembered his father. For a second, he felt nothing but intense rage and pain at the treatment he had received from him. The idea that his own father had sentenced him to die, knowing - and Tyrion knew his father knew, for Tywin Lannister was a clever man - that he had never poisoned Joffery but sentencing him to die all the same, was unfathomable. The cruel, calculating stare his father had given him after Oberyn Martell had his face quite literally crushed in had sent deep shards of pain riveting up Tyrion's spine.

  
 Tyrion had always understood that he would never truly be accepted by his family or even most people. Jaime was the closest thing he had to family, a brother he could actually count on. So of course it had been Jaime of all people to come and rescue him. His heart throbbed a little at the prospect, that someone had been willing to save him instead of allowing his head to be put on a spike. No doubt Joffery would have thought that entertaining.

  
 Tyrion glanced over at the wall to his right and saw the crossbow hanging from the wall. Dark and angry emotions churned through him and before the rational part of his mind could even tell him to stop, he was tugging the thing down from its placement on the wall and grabbing a few arrows. Fury was building inside him, small coals rapidly turning into an open flame.

  
 He carried the crossbow and arrows down the hall towards the toilet, where he knew his father was undoubtedly taking a leak. Tyrion's mouth curved into a bitter smile. How fitting it would be if his father were to die, here and now. An undignified death for a dignified man.

  
 He heard movement inside the stall as he paused outside of it. He placed the arrows in a nook beside him, took the crossbow in his arms to aim it, and gently nudged the door open.

  
 To find Tywin Lannister already collapsed awkwardly in the stall, blood seeping out of his clothing and down his legs. Tyrion stared in shock as his father, half conscious, attempted to right himself from the very undignified position he was in.

  
 "Tyrion," he grunted in an almost nonchalant greeting. "Put down the crossbow."

  
 It would have been funny, his father telling him to put down a weapon when it was pretty clear he was already wounded from a weapon anyways. Instead of laughing, however, Tyrion dropped the weapon, still shocked. "What in the name of the gods happened?" he demanded as he approached Tywin cautiously, noticing the arrow protruding from his shoulder. Someone else used the crossbow, Tyrion realized with a great shock.

  
 "Cersei is what happened." the man before him spat out, grimacing as he finally managed to right himself on the toilet. Blood was still continuing to trickle through his clothing. "I ordered her to marry Ser Loras Tyrell. She refused the arrangement. We spoke rather heatedly about it, some of which concerned the rumor that she and Jaime had slept with one another." He grunted again, shaking fingers reaching up the arrow shaft in his shoulder. His fingers plucked at the arrow but could not seem to grasp it in its entirety.

  
 "Cersei." Tyrion echoed her name, wondering how he could not have seen this coming. Cersei had always been power hungry, looking for more ways to influence the behavior of her children. And that of her family, of course. Tywin was perhaps the only man she truly feared, and with him out of the way, she would be able to rule King's Landing - meaning influence Tommen's decisions - with no one to stop her. "How did she even manage to-?"

  
 "She was here mere minutes before you arrived." Tywin answered for him, fingers still half clutching the piece of wood jabbed in his shoulder. "She had the crossbow, too, except she wasn't here to have a friendly talk."

  
 Tyrion glanced down at the crossbow, wondering how he could not have noticed Cersei when he came up to his father's chambers. "Shae..."

  
 "Cersei had no concern for the whore," Tywin interrupted impatiently. "It was me she wanted."

  
 "I killed Shae." Tyrion said, almost as if his father had said nothing. "I strangled her with my own hands."

  
 Tywin was silently for a moment, watching Tyrion intently. "That is alright." he finally said, with an air of indifference. "She was just a whore."

  
 Tyrion glanced up at him, eyes brimming with anger and tears. _"Just a whore?"_ he hissed, hands suddenly itching to pick up the crossbow again. "I loved her."

  
 "You love any woman who pays the slightest attention to your cock." Tywin snapped back at him. "Just as any man does."

  
 "She was sleeping with you." Tyrion said in a incredulous tone. "After everything you said to me about bringing a whore to King's Landing, you slept with one! With Shae!" Fury was once again coursing through his veins. "You are a hypocrite!"

  
 "Yes, I did." his father answered, expression still indifferent. Tyrion could not understand it, how Tywin could be so cool and collected in the face of being wounded and confronted by an angry dwarf with a crossbow. "She was just as willing. She never loved you, Tyrion."

  
 Tyrion blinked, feeling like he had just been slapped in the face. "That is a lie. She was mine-"

  
 "-and you were hers, I suppose?" Tywin said coldly. "Ah, the promises people make to each other. Do you want to know what she truly loved?"

  
 Tears were running down Tyrion's face, to his immense embarrassment. _Yes_ , he jeered at himself in his head, _cry like a babe in front of your wounded father. While discussing a woman you both slept with! The world has gone mad!_ "Stop it." he said brokenly, glaring at Tywin. "I don't want to hear anything from you anymore."

  
 "She loved money." his father continued, seemingly oblivious to Tyrion's crying. He leaned forward slightly. "And since you are a Lannister, how could she possibly refuse an offer of gold in exchange for pretending to love you?"

  
 "She wasn't pretending!" Tyrion roared, half tempted to reach for the crossbow and shoot an arrow into his father's face. Oh, why did Cersei have to have such poor aim? She could have aimed for Tywin's neck or chest, but no. She sent an arrow through the man's _shoulder._

  
 Tywin was silent again. Something inside Tyrion snapped, seeing his father staring at him with such frigidness. He leaned againt the door slightly, hating himself for falling apart so easily, hating himself for being a dwarf, hating himself for not just killing Tywin right there and then.

  
 But that would just help Cersei, wouldn't it? And the last thing Tyrion wanted to do was aid Cersei in her quest for power.

  
 "Why are you telling me this?" Tyrion spoke again, after quieting his sobbing and sniffling. "To make me suffer more? Because you find this amusing?"

  
 Tywin did not answer his question. Instead, he posed his own question to Tyrion. "Why have you not killed me yet? I have provoked you, taunted you, laid blame to you, scorned you. I have done all of those things and more to you since the very day you were born. And yet, here you stand, with a crossbow at your disposal and a wounded man unable to defend himself, the subject of your very nightmares, merely talking. Talking, of all things. But you were always prone to talk, weren't you?"

  
 Tyrion chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, I suppose I was. I still am. And Cersei ruling the Seven Kingdoms is my nightmare, not you."

  
 "And that is why you will not kill me." Tywin said. It was not a question. Tyrion looked at him, at the pain that seemed to be edging even more wrinkles into his father's face. As much as the man did not want to admit it, he was in pain and losing blood fast. He appeared so weak and frail now, hunched over in a stall. Suddenly, any desire Tyrion had or would have had to kill the man before him vanished.

  
 Tyrion sighed, the tenseness seeming to be pulled from his body. "I wanted to kill you," he said truthfully. "I was planning to kill you. It seems Cersei tried to beat me to that task." He stared into Tywin's icy gaze. "But I am no murderer. And you are my father."

  
 There was something that looked suspiciously like surprise in his father's eyes but it was quickly extinguished. Tywin grimaced, hand still fumbling with the arrow in his shoulder. "Well, if you are not going to kill me, then take me to my chambers so I can dress my wound."

  
 And send me back to my prison cell. Tyrion added to himself. But he made no protest or complaint as he lent Tywin his hand and helped me up from the toilet, which was now drenched in blood. The older man stumbled and limped as Tyrion walked with him back to his chambers. Tyrion realized he would have to see Shae's lifeless body again as they neared his father's door. Self loathing and regret surged within him. For a moment, Tyrion paused, feeling every bone in his body ache.  
 

And then he pushed open the door.


	2. Chapter Two

"Shall I call for Grand Maester Pycelle?" Tyrion asked as he tended to his father's wound. The arrow shaft was lodged in quite deeply and its hooked point made pulling the arrow out messier than it should have been. Blood seeped out of the shoulder, producing a steady current of red liquid. With a frustated huff, Tyrion reached over to the table for more bandages, hoping to still the flow of blood.

Tywin snorted. "You may be no healer but I would sooner have _you_ tend to my wound than that old fool." Sitting in his armchair, he watched with cool eyes as Tyrion struggled to tend to his wound.

The flow of blood began to slow and Tyrion silently praised the gods. "I would say this is going to hurt," Tyrion joked, "but then I would merely be stating the obvious." With those words, Tyrion's red stained fingers grasped the front of the arrow where the point was sticking out and pulled.

His father sucked in a sharp breath, but that was the only noise he made. _Naturally,_ Tyrion thought to himself sarcastically. _Tywin Lannister is immune to pain._ He discarded the arrow on table beside them, grabbed more bandages, and began to patch up the wound. His blood coated fingers slipped on the flimsy fabric, but he knew this would have to do until morning came, when his father could have his wound actually cared for.

When his shoulder was finally wrapped and bandaged, Tyrion backed away, the nervousness that had disappeared when he had begun work on his father's wound coming back in full force. Surely, he would call for the guards and have him taken back to his cell, or perhaps killed right here in Tywin's chambers. This did not seem far from a logical conclusion and Tyrion wrung his hands, looking anywhere but at his father.

"Who helped you escape then?" the older man spoke to him after a few minutes of silence. Tyrion forced himself to look into his father's unreadable gaze. "Was it Jaime? I wouldn't be surprised. He has always had a soft spot for you."

Tyrion had nothing to say to this. Here they were, chatting about how he escaped, while a dead Shae lay on his father's bed. He couldn't help himself as he glanced despairingly over at her still form, her dark eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Tywin noticed this, of course, and sighed. "Forget about her, Tyrion. She was a whore, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not."

Tyrion sent a resentful glare his way. "Of course I know she was a whore. I am a dwarf, not an idiot." He swallowed, stealing another glance at her. "She tried to kill me. With a dagger, she-" He trailed off, fighting the lump in his throat.

His father raised an incredulous eyebrow. "The whore tried to kill you and you're telling me that she _loved_ you?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "That is not love, Tyrion. That is hate."

Tyrion wanted to claw and scratch at his father's face, but something deep within his guts told him that what Tywin said was true. "I had no choice." he said in a quiet voice. "I tried to send her away. After I married Sansa, how could I possibly continue what I had with Shae? I said terrible things to her. Of course she would hate me."

Tywin stared at him deeply. "And what did you say?"

"...I called her a whore."

A deep throated laugh erupted from his father and Tyrion felt a degree of rage well up within him. "Forgive me," he said testily, "but I find none of this particularly amusing." _Oh, the audacity of this man!_

Tywin quieted his chuckling, eyes still glimmering. "A whore is offended that you would call her a whore?"

Tyrion glared at him. "It is much the same as calling a bastard a bastard. They know it is who they are, but it hurts to be called one anyways."

"And tell me, Tyrion," his father replied, "did it ever hurt you to be called a dwarf, knowing that you were and are a dwarf?"

Tyrion's eyes flashed. "You know it did." he said coldly. "It still does. I am just better at pretending it doesn't."

Tywin was silent for a moment. He shifted in his chair, staring off beyond Tyrion for a moment. "I have always hated you." he said finally, his voice low.

Tyrion stiffened. He just _knew_ what was going to come next. Tywin would talk about how he had murdered his wife by being born and how his deformity had plagued him throughout his whole life. And then he would call the guards and have them take him to his cell and probably execute him on the morrow-

"When Joanna died and I was faced with _you,_ " he ground out, "I wanted nothing more than to strangle you and cast your body someplace and let it rot."

"You're being quiet poetic tonight." Tyrion said. "You should have someone write a song about this. It could be called, How My Bastard Dwarf Son Killed The Love Of My Life. It has a kind of ring to it, wouldn't you agree?"

Tywin continued on as if he hadn't heard him. "I loved her very much. I loved Cersei and Jaime, for they were my children. But _you..._ seeing your deformed infant body caused something inside me to wilt. I was embarrassed by you, humiliated even. I was lord of Casterly Rock and the father to a monstrosity. I was the laughing stock of the Seven Kingdoms."

Tyrion felt something bitter and vile crawl up his throat. "Well, forgive me," he bit out, "for being the cause of your degeneration. I never thought that my appearance would be the catalyst for the demise of your parental care."

Tywin stared at him for a minute. "However," he continued, heaving a great sigh. "As much as I wanted and hope that you would die on your own, you defied my expectations. You coped with your deformity. You coped with being the embarrassment of House Lannister. You would not die, no matter how often I or others would wish such a fate on you. And I respect you for that."

"I'm touched, really." Tyrion replied automatically as his father spoke. And then he blinked. _Wait, what had he said?_

"I admire it, even." Tywin said in a grudging voice. "You fight for what is yours."

Tyrion stared at Tywin as though he had grown two heads. "...Thank you, I suppose." he said quietly. "I do try."

Tywin grunted, shifting his wounded shoulder a little. Tyrion stared, feeling his throat constrict. "Was there ever a time," he asked, hardly daring to hope for an answer to his question, "when I made you proud? Or was I always a disappointment to you?"

Tywin looked intently at him. "The Battle of Blackwater Bay." he said almost instantly. Tyrion blinked, not expecting that at all.

"But...you never came to see me. I-I assumed that I had not lived up to your expectations." Tyrion stammered, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. In all honesty, he had not thought that Tywin would answer at all.

"On the contrary, you impressed me." the older man said. "You led men into war, into a battle that you all clearly expected to lose. And you would have, if I had not arrived when I did. But you rallied the spirits of men who knew that the chances of surviving that night were slim. Instead of Joffery striding out into the heat of battle, it was you. A _dwarf,_ of all things, leading men against unbeatable odds, against Stannis Baratheon himself."

A trickle of warmth snuck its way into Tyrion's chest. So he _had_ impressed Tywin at the Battle of Blackwater Bay. He had made Tywin Lannister proud.

"I did not come to see you," his father continued, "because I could not find it within myself to admit that I was proud of you. I harbored hate and loathing for you and was furious when I heard you brought your whore with you." He paused, taking a deep breath. "But I was proud, Tyrion, as much as I hate to admit it."

Tyrion was stunned. This was a lot, coming from Tywin Lannister. Tywin _never_ complimented or praised any of his children. Not Cersei, not Jaime, certainly not him. And yet here he was, saying that he was _proud._

"I..." Tyrion began. "I do not know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything." Tywin said flatly, pulling himself up. Standing, he loomed over Tyrion menacingly. "I suppose you are wondering what, in fact, I should do with you."

All the warmth that had fathered in Tyrion's chest crumbled into ashes. "Yes, I guess I am." he answered slowly, staring warily at the man in front of him. "Although it is probably obvious. You will execute me. I came to your chambers to kill you-"

"-and instead you saved me." Tywin interrupted. "And you well know that a Lannister always pays his debts."

Tyrion blinked. "Wait, so...you are _not_ going to kill me?"

"No." his father said. "Instead, despite several good reasons of why I should not, I will allow you to escape." Tyrion could not believe what he was hearing. "You will be snuck out of King's Landing in a wagon taking supplies to neighboring villages. You will get off at one of them and travel, by foot or horse or in whatever manner you choose, to Winterfell. There, I want you to tell Roose Bolton that he is no longer Warden of the North and that he is to relinquish his title and the realm to you."

Tyrion's mouth dropped open. "Wait... _what?_ Are you...are you serious?"

Tywin stared intently down at him. "You shall be lord of Winterfell. That is, if you can survive the journey, perhaps locate your wife along the way, and bear a son, who will become lord of Winterfell after your passing."

"...But.... _why..._ I mean, Bolton, he...he helped lure the Starks to the Twins! He has done more for you than certainly I ever have!"

"So I should reward the man for helping to murder the entire line of Starks at a wedding?" Tywin growled.

"No." Tyrion exclaimed, "of course not! But what about Cersei?"

"Cersei," Tywin answered, "shall be punished accordingly, for she attempted to murder me, however poor the attempt was."

"Yes, she always did want to get her hands dirty about something."

"If you should bear a son with your wife and miraculously rally the support of the Northerners to your claim of lord of Winterfell, then perhaps I shall consider a pardon for your crime-"

"What crime?" Tyrion cried. "I never murdered Joffery and you know it!"

"But the rest of the realm does not." Tywin retorted. "And until I grant you a pardon, you are as good as a traitor in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms."

Tyrion huffed, crossing his arms. "And you think the North will at all accept me as the lord of Winterfell, let alone have Sansa say yes to having a child with me?"

"And there is the challenge." Tywin said smoothly. "You were always one to beat the odds, Tyrion. I expect that this shall be of no issue. Guards!"

Tyrion's eyes widened unexpectedly at his father's shout. "Why are you doing this?" he asked him, completely baffled and surprised by this turn of events. "Surely there are people more capable of doing this."

Tywin looked at him, the sound of guards running down the halls with clinking armor reaching both of their ears. "Because you are my son."

Tyrion's throat constricted again. For the third time that night, he wanted to cry. Of course, he had already cried enough in front of Tywin Lannister, so he chose to hold the sudden warmth springing in his chest inside.

The guards rushed into Tywin's chambers. "I want you to take my son and hide him in one of the wagons bound for the North." Tywin ordered them, noticing their confused expressions. "If anyone is to hear or know of this, I will have your heads. Do you understand me?"

Both of the guards nodded and grabbed Tyrion by the arms rather roughly. "What about Shae?" he shouted. Tywin gave him an exasperated look.

"Don't worry," he said, "she will be buried in an appropriate fashion. Now, take him away."

 _No, put me down!_ Tyrion wanted to scream. He had so many questions burning in his mind right now. But the guards dragged me out of his father's chambers and down the halls, their armor and his heavy breathing the only sounds echoing down them.

"Lord of Winterfell," he whispered, feeling both a sense of excitement and foreboding. "Just what exactly does that really entitle?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone really enjoyed this story. I am hoping to continue this in another, longer story. It's just that I was rewatching the finale of season four and I felt that there needed to be more closure between Tywin and Tyrion. Also, I hated the ending to the show and decided to rewrite this part in the way I would have liked to have seen it. 
> 
> Please comment below and tell me if you would like for me to continue Tyrion's journey in another story!


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